


There's No Espresso in Azkaban

by sassy_cissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Getting Together, H/D Career Fair 2017, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking Pansy Parkinson, Oblivious Harry Potter, Pet Names, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Starbucks, terrible pet names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-12-25 22:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12045624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/pseuds/sassy_cissa
Summary: When Harry finds Draco working in a Starbucks, he finds coffee has suddenly become more interesting.





	There's No Espresso in Azkaban

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[144](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/124297.html?thread=4853641#t4853641).
> 
> I have several people to thank for their help on this. To B and L and M – this would not be finished without all of you and your support and input. And to the Drarry squad for the _sprints_ that helped keep me motivated. To phoenixacid, thank you for your inspiring prompt. I hope you enjoy it.

There's No Espresso in Azkaban

Draco looked around the office of his family's long time solicitor. He'd been waiting for and dreading this day in equal measure for nearly three months. The dark paneled room held many memories for Draco; visiting with his father when he'd been four or five, chewing on a Zonko's caramel while sitting on Lucius' knee as business was discussed. Coming back during his fifth year at Hogwarts when the senior Malfoy had been arrested at the Ministry. But today he wasn't thinking about the past, or his father; today he was concerned about what his own future held. The war was over and Lucius had been immediately tossed back into Azkaban for his role as a trusted follower of the Dark Lord. However, after Harry Potter testified on behalf of his mother and, to everyone's shock, Draco, the Wizengamot wasn't quite certain what sort of reparations they would enforce.

Summer was nearly gone before Draco had finally received the summons from the law office of Pinkerton, Wilberforth and Wade to hear the Wizengamot's decision. 

Edgar Wilberforth, as Draco recalled, was old the first time his father brought Draco to the office with him, so he wasn't surprised when the wrinkled, old man shuffled into the room.

"Mr Malfoy," Wilberforth croaked in a voice obviously ravaged by smoking and age. "It's been several years." He extended a gnarled, liver-spotted hand to Draco.

"Pleased to see you again, Mr Wilberforth," Draco replied, taking the man's bony hand. "I hope you have--, well if not good news, at least news of reasonable reparations."

"All things considered, Mr Malfoy, I feel you've been treated quite fairly." Wilberforth shuffled to the chair behind his enormous desk, pulling it out and thunking his scrawny arse down into it with a heavy sigh. He waved Draco into the seat on the other side of the desk. "The Wizengamot has decided to invoke a monetary penalty of fifty thousand galleons to assist in the rebuilding of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts."

Draco scowled, but inwardly he felt relieved. It was substantial, but not so much that the Malfoy coffers couldn't handle it. "That's a bit excessive, but I suppose it could have been worse. I'll make sure you're authorized to transfer the funds from Gringotts to whatever ridiculous account they've set up for it. At least then it's done."

Draco made to stand.

"That's not the only stipulation, Mr Malfoy," Wilberforth croaked out, stilling Draco in place. He reached for a sheaf of paper sitting neatly on the corner of his desk.

"What?" Draco frowned. "Oh please don't tell me I have to do something horrendous like apologize to bloody Potter. Or Granger. Or even worse yet, the Weasel!"

"Let me read it straight from the directive." The old solicitor cleared his throat before reading ponderously. " _In the matter of reparations from Draco Malfoy, the Wizengamot feels that in order to become more tolerant of Muggles, Mr Malfoy must spend one year working in the Muggle world. During this time, he will work at his court appointed job in an effort to understand our Muggle neighbors, and to gain tolerance._ " Wilberforth looked up from the parchment. 

Draco's mouth dropped open. "Are you fu…" He forced himself to stop, taking a deep breath before trying again. "Are you serious? I'm expected to work as a Muggle for a year? I refuse. That's absurd."

"If you refuse, Mr Malfoy, you will spend the year in Azkaban," Wilberforth said darkly. "I'd give serious consideration to this offer before you refuse."

Slumping in the chair, Draco rubbed his hands over his face before looking back up. "And where exactly am I supposed to work?"

"The Wizengamot has secured you a position as something called a barista in a Muggle coffee shop in London." Wilberforth squints down at the parchment. "The business is called Starbucks and is owned by a Squib."

"No," Draco said shaking his head, horrified. "You must be mistaken. I can't work there. Pansy dragged me into one of those establishments once. It's a nightmare. It smells like someone left the pot on the burner until the coffee evaporated and the pot burned up. I simply can't."

Mr Wilberforth gave Draco a withering look. "You have no choice, young man. It's either this or a year in Azkaban." Draco pursed his lips, seriously considering the stint in Azkaban. He thought he could make it through. Maybe.

"Mr Malfoy," Wilberforth continued. "In the grand scheme of things, I feel this is quite a good offer and you should consider accepting it immediately."

Draco shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "Absolutely not."

Wilberforth set the parchment on his desk, folding his hands on top of the yellowing pages. "Mr Malfoy, Draco…" He shook his head. "I understand your hesitation. But you have to know the only other option is to spend the next year in Azkaban. Even without Dementors, it's a dismal place and someone as — " He paused, his bushy brows rising. "Young and alluring as you could find himself with all manner of unwanted attention. If you understand my meaning."

Draco did, and he shuddered, thinking of all the former Death Eaters currently in residence in Azkaban, and what they might do to him. He pressed his lips together and sighed. "I really don't have a choice, do I?"

"No," Wilberforth said firmly. "You really don't. While this will be quite difficult for you, I do suspect that you'll fare much better in the Muggle world than you would in Azkaban." He gave Draco a small smile. "In fact, I think you just might come out of this a stronger person."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Let's not be ridiculous. I'll do it because I'm a Malfoy, and we are survivors, but do not fool yourself that I'll change my mind about Muggles."

Wilberforth shook his head. "They're just people, Draco. The sooner you realize that, the easier the next year will be for you."

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes, just as Wilberforth launched into a recitation of his training schedule.

000000

Nearly three months had passed since Draco first started working at the Starbucks not far from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. During that time he'd developed, quite to his surprise, something of a following of Muggle customers. It seemed the ruder he was, and the more dismissive, the more they made sure to come in for his shifts. This only served to reinforce his belief that they were all quite mad. Or thick, at least. The only people who'd ever put up with Draco at his worst had been Vince and Greg, and even them Vince had balked at the end, hadn't he?

It was nearly nine on a Monday morning, and the early rush had begun to slow. Draco had his back to the register, wiping down the counter when he heard a startled sound behind him. He turned and looked right into the stunned face of Harry Potter. 

"Oh for fuck's sake," Draco said, tossing aside his towel, "what in the name of Merl…what the hell are you doing here, Potter?"

Harry just stared at him, his mouth agape. 

"Close your mouth, you Neanderthal." Draco took a moment to steady himself. "What do you want to drink, you mor…, Potter?"

"Er…umm," Harry stammered. 

"Eloquent as ever, I see," Draco drawled, before a horrified thought crossed his mind. He lowered his voice and hissed out. "Are you here to spy on me for the Ministry, Potter?"

"Spy on you?" Harry said, finding his voice once more. "What the fuck? I just came in for a cup of coffee."

Draco gave an audible sigh and was all business again. He wasn't certain he believed Potter, but whatever. "Fine. What can I get for you?"

Harry stared at him for a moment longer, then seemed to tear his eyes away to look up at the menu board. "I'll have a medium coffee with milk."

Draco glared. "So you'd like a venti. Blonde, dark roast, decaf, regular? Any shots? Type of milk? Extras?"

Harry blinked. "Christ, Malfoy. I just want a cup of coffee with milk." 

"Got a virgin here," Draco called over his shoulder with a sly smirk. He turned back to Harry. "Name for your order, Potter?"

"You know my name, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth. 

Draco gave him a wide smile and punched some buttons on the register. "That's £1.75."

Harry handed over his money, but didn't move.

Draco rolled his eyes and jerked his head to the side. "You pick up your order down there."

At that moment the girl at the end of the counter picked up a cup and announced, "I have a venti, medium roast with room for a…" She paused then frowned, looking up. " _Scarhead_."

"Oh that's original," Harry muttered, walking down and grabbing the cup from her. He turned towards Draco, but Draco'd already scarpered off towards the stockroom, peering out around the door frame. Harry sighed and left the shop.

000000

"So, did you plan to tell me that Malfoy is working at the Starbucks down the road, or did the two of you find the idea of me stumbling across him behind the counter just too amusing to resist?"

Harry pulled off his robe, tossing them across the back of a chair at the table where Pansy Parkinson looked up from the report in front of her. They were in the canteen at the Ministry, and Harry had to raise his voice to be heard above the din of conversation and the sound of cutlery scraping the ceramic dishes. Hermione Granger, seated across from Pansy, looked up, her brown eyes wide. 

It was Hermione who had first approached Pansy on seeing her at the Ministry. Pansy and Hermione were both training at the DMLE, and she told Harry and Ron she couldn't imagine them both working in such a small program while trying very hard to ignore one another. Harry, who'd never really held the whole 'turn him over to the Dark Lord thing' against Pansy, had encouraged Hermione to talk to her. 

Pansy had been suspicious at first, given the way the Battle of Hogwarts had ended. Pansy's parents weren't Death Eaters, but their sympathies had been pretty clear. 

However, Hermione was nothing if not fair, and after a few stilted conversations she'd plopped down at Pansy's table one day during lunch and announced, "Listen, this is stupid. We're going to be working together for at least the next year. Can't we figure out a way to get over the past and just… start over?"

Pansy had looked up at her, one dark brow arched. "I think that depends."

"On what?"

Pansy's full lips had quirked to one side in a smirk. "Well, if you can pull that very large stick out of your arse."

Hermione's first impulse had been to snarl back at her. Then she'd seen a spark of something in Pansy's eyes that made her pause; a hint of insecurity, but a flash of wicked humor that made her want to laugh. She went with the second option, then laughed harder when Pansy's eyes widened in surprise.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" Hermione had asked, wiping at her eyes. 

"Well, not for anything, Granger, but you never seemed to have much of a sense of humor at school."

"It was hard for anyone to have a sense of humor back then." Hermione arched a brow of her own. Pansy had grimaced.

"True enough."

"So, shall we bury the hatchet, then?" When Pansy opened her mouth Hermione held up her hand. " _Not_ in my head?"

Pansy'd laughed. "Well, that's no fun. But I suppose." She held out her hand, blood red nails shining. "Truce?"

"Truce." Then they shook on it. Hermione'd still been laughing that night when she told Harry and Ron the story. The next day she'd hauled Harry to lunch with Pansy and after some initial awkwardness, they'd been hanging out ever since. Blaise Zabini, who was working at a financial accounting firm near Gringott's, even joined them occasionally for drinks at the Leaky.

Now both women stared at Harry, clearly confused.

"Malfoy is working at a _Starbucks?_ " Hermione squeaked.

"Draco. Making coffee?" Pansy looked more startled than Hermione, and Harry flopped into a chair.

"Neither of you knew, then." Harry was surprised by that.

"I haven't talked to Draco in…well months, although I've tried." Pansy looked thoughtful. "Maybe this is why he's been avoiding me."

"Do you suppose this is part of the Wizengamot sentencing?" Hermione asked, leaning her elbows on the table.

"Don't you think we'd have heard?" Harry sounded skeptical. "There's no such thing as a secret around here; you know that."

"He was a minor during the worst of it, you know that. Plus, he had a closed hearing. Maybe his reparation is closed, too?" Hermione pursed her lips. "I'll bet I could find out."

"Of course you could." Harry and Pansy spoke in unison, then gave each other a sly look. Hermione had once told Harry if he wasn't gay, she believed he and Pansy would have made a cute couple. Harry'd insisted he wasn't nearly blood thirsty enough for Pansy.

"How does he look?" Pansy asked Harry as Hermione quickly thumbed through her phone, apparently looking for one of her mysterious Ministry sources. 

"Malfoy?" 

She nodded. 

"He looks…" Harry paused, thinking back. How had he looked? He'd been startled enough that initially he hadn't really thought about it. Now, in retrospect … "He looks good." 

Malfoy did. His hair had been longer than Harry remembered, looser without the gel and soft around his angular face. He'd had on black slacks, and a white button down under a black apron, and his shoulders were broad and he looked long and lean. He looked, well, hot, and that was a bit of a startling revelation to Harry. Pansy was eyeing Harry as if she could read his mind, her eyes narrowed, and he looked away quickly. 

"Of course, he's still an obnoxious git," Harry said. "Put 'Scarhead' on my cup. Got me some weird looks when that was announced that out loud."

Pansy had just taken a sip of her tea and she sputtered into her cup, wiping her chin with her fingers. "Give a woman some warning if you're going to say something like that, you wanker."

Harry gave her a cheeky smile. 

"It looks to me," Hermione broke in, "like the court records for Malfoy's sentencing _are_ closed. It would be a fitting punishment, though, wouldn't it? Making him work in a Muggle shop?" She grimaced. "Although I feel sorry for the Muggles that come into contact with him."

"He doesn't appear to be hurting business," Harry said. "Had a queue nearly to the door at one point."

"You know what you should do – " Pansy had what Harry thought of as her 'evil grin' pulling at her pretty lips. He'd learned to respect and fear that particular expression. She turned to Hermione. "Granger. Let's put those impressive research abilities of yours to work, shall we?"

Harry looked between them, saw the cunning expression they exchanged, and almost felt sorry for Malfoy. Almost.

000000

Harry walked into the fragrant coffee shop, his heart rate kicking up when he saw the lithe blond standing behind the counter. After Pansy had asked how Malfoy had looked, Harry found himself thinking about that quite often. He waited behind two middle-aged women who couldn't seem to decide what they wanted, prompting Malfoy to drawl; 'While we're young, ladies.' Rather than being insulted, they tittered like school girls, and Malfoy rolled his eyes.

After the women moved to the end of the counter, Harry stepped up. "You weren't here yesterday," he blurted, then nearly rolled his eyes at himself.

Malfoy gave him a disgusted look. "It's called a _day off_ , Potter. It's considered bad form to work someone seven days a week, even amongst Mugg--." He broke off, his face flushing, then said, "This lot." Draco angled one hip out, looking impatient. "Now if you'd care to place your order?"

Harry grinned, feeling back on level ground. "I'd like a hot, grande, blonde roast with steamed whole milk." 

"Someone's been brushing up on their ordering technique," Malfoy sighed, sounding bored. "Name please."

Harry huffed. "We've been through this, Malfoy. You know my name."

Draco glared at him, gray eyes narrowed. Even so, Harry thought they were a beautiful colour. "Name for the order. Please." The last was hissed through Malfoy's teeth.

"Oh for Christ's sake – it's Harry!" Harry snarled. "And you bloody know it."

Malfoy stabbed at the register keys, jotted on a cup in black marker, took Harry's money and jerked his head to indicate for him to move along. Harry went to the end of the counter, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. Malfoy seemed perfectly capable of ignoring him, even though Harry continued to stare at him.

"I have a grande, blonde roast with steamed whole milk for _bespeckled git_." The girl at the end of the counter announced with a laugh and Harry jerked his attention to her. 

"What?" Harry turned to give Malfoy a piece of his mind, but once again someone else was taking orders, and the pointy prat was nowhere to be seen. Harry collected his drink, ignoring the barista's cheeky grin, turning and striding out the door, fuming the entire way.

000000

When Potter walked through the door to the Starbucks on Monday, Draco noticed that he had his head up and his chin thrust out pugnaciously, an expression of stubbornness on his face Draco had seen more than once during their school years.

He also couldn't help but notice that his disreputable hair actually looked less messy than usual, and something seemed to be going on with the prat's body. Like he was wearing clothing that _fit_ for a change. Draco had always noticed Potter's flashing green eyes and his fine bone structure, although he'd die before he admitted it aloud. But now there was an obvious broadness to his shoulders, and a narrowness to his hips. And Draco hated the fact that his heart rate sped up on sight of him.

"So," he said, pouring as much sarcasm as he could into his voice, "what will it be today?"

Potter's eyes flashed. "Iced grande caramel macchiato, upside-down, extra caramel."

Draco arched a brow. "My, my. Well, number one, I sense Granger in that. And number two, I'd question her friendship, given she seems to be wishing – oh what's that disease Mugg…" He caught himself and stopped. "It's your choice, but I'd worry if she keeps recommending drinks that will make you the size of a troll." He grinned. "Name?"

Potter leaned a hand on the counter, his lips pursed so tight they were nearly white. "Harry," he snarled, "which you know."

Draco looked at him mildly, punching keys on the register gesturing toward the end of the counter with his head. He picked up the cup and the black marker, smirking as he scribbled on the side. He handed the cup off, waited until Potter had glanced away, then slipped between the large menu and the wall, through a nearly hidden door into the back room. He stopped just out of sight. "Mandy," he whispered to the co-worker who was washing mugs at the nearby sink. She was already drying her hands.

"I know; can I take the counter." She shook her head. "What is it with you and this bloke?"

"Long history," Draco said vaguely. He could see Potter from where he stood, now looking around the front end in irritation. 

"You keep pulling me out front every time he comes in, you're going to have to explain it." She went out to the counter, and Draco thought it would be a cold day in hell before he explained anything. He watched as Potter's drink was prepared, then saw Brenda, the other barista, fighting a laugh as she popped on the lid. 

"Iced grande caramel macchiato, upside-down, extra caramel for 'Potty Wee Potter'."

Draco had to cover his mouth with his hand to smother a laugh when Potter snarled and snatched up the drink. 

Even funnier was the look of disgust on his face when he took a sip. He stormed out of the store, and Draco allowed himself to laugh.

000000

Harry ambled into the conference room, coffee cup in hand and sat down at the table. Hermione came rushing in moments later, her hair a dark corona of curls around her head, making her look like an outraged porcupine with a perm. She tossed her bag on her the table, and it clunked like it weighed a ton although she'd clearly lightened it for carrying.

"What have you got in that thing?" Harry asked. Although remembering the beaded bag she'd once carried, he could only imagine.

"Just textbooks." 

"She's got half the law library in the bloody bag," Pansy said, strolling up casually and dropping gracefully into the seat next to Harry's. The apprentices working for the prosecutor's office in the DMLE had to take Magical Felonies with the Auror cadets on Thursday mornings. And as an Oblivator trainee, Harry was required to attend as well. "Don't let her convince you otherwise."

"Oh, I believe it." Harry grinned as Hermione's face turned pink. While he was distracted, Pansy scooped up his cup.

"Developing a taste for Muggle drinks, I see." Pansy arched a brow and gave him a sarcastic smile. Harry tried to take the cup back from her, but she held it out of his reach. When she read the writing on the side, she crowed with laughter. "Oh, sweet Merlin," she finally managed. "The boy always had a way with words."

"What did he write?" Hermione asked, holding out her hand. Pansy managed to pass her the cup while avoiding Harry's irritated grab.

"It is my cup, Parkinson," he said, annoyed. She gave him a saccharine sweet smile. Watching Hermione read the cup, then try not to laugh sent Pansy off into giggles again. 

"Well that's rude." Hermione pursed her lips, but it was clear she was trying not to smile. Harry huffed and held out his hand. "Did you like the drink?" she asked, passing the cup back to him.

"When I crash from the sugar high I'll probably be in a coma," Harry answered drily. "Other than that, it's fine." The coffee was actually almost sickeningly sweet, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to just toss the bloody thing, which was faintly disturbing. 

"So why is it, do you think," Pansy mused, "that you keep going back to endure this abuse?" She pursed her bright red lips. "It seems odd to me, especially considering your history with Draco. Although, you did testify for him at his trial. Is it possible you became attached to him then? Or did you notice that he has a very nice arse while skulking around after him during sixth year?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. "I wasn't looking at his arse. And I wasn't skulking." Pansy snorted.

Hermione rested her elbow on her desk, her chin cupped in the palm of her hand. "I noticed in fifth year." Harry glared at her. "What? It's true. He has a very nice arse. And admit it, you've been somewhat preoccupied with him for a long time, now. Enough that you'll spend what? A tenner or so a week in order to have him insult you. Why is that?"

Harry looked away, but he felt his face heating. "I pass it on my way here," he mumbled. "And I want coffee. It's just convenient, that's all."

"The man is blushing." Pansy sounded so pleased with that. "Isn't that interesting?"

"Only to you." Harry took a drink through the straw, unable to hide a grimace. Pansy's laugh rang like a bell. 

"You know, Pansy," Hermione said. "I've been thinking you and I should join our friend here at Starbucks tomorrow, just to see if the fascination goes both ways."

"Well, I haven't wanted to say anything," Pansy said, "but I know for a fact Draco had a massive pash on Harry beginning about fourth year. Probably something to do with him fighting a dragon."

Harry straightened, his heart leaping. "What?? You couldn't have mentioned that at some point before now?"

Pansy shrugged nonchalantly. "Why would I? I thought you hated him. Then, you turned up at his trial. Now, you keep going to get coffee where he treats you like a giant wanker and I have to wonder…"

"So, you stop on your way to class each day?" Hermione asked brightly. "We could meet you on the Muggle side of the Leaky and go together."

"I think you're mad," he said, shaking his head. 

"I think you're trying to avoid the subject. Don't you want our considered opinion on whether he fancies you back?" Pansy arched a perfectly shaped dark eyebrow.

"I don't have a crush," Harry argued, his voice rising.

"Oh, please." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, I love you, but there's always been something about you and Malfoy. You even date primarily blonds."

"I do not," he argued, although he was very much afraid he did. He tried to think of anyone he'd dated in the last three years who _hadn't_ been a blond, and he couldn't think of a one. 

His friends sat, staring at him and waiting, and he sighed explosively. "Fine, whatever. Come with me. That should just be entertaining as all hell for everyone concerned."

Hermione grinned, and Pansy gave him a slow smile. 

"Oh, this will be fun." Pansy winked.

"Yeah, dandy." Harry scowled at her. "I can't wait."

Auror Rawlins entered at the front of the room, ending their discussion. But Harry couldn't concentrate on a single thing the man said for the next ninety minutes. 

All he could think about was Pansy's announcement that Draco had a crush on him in fourth year. And how much he wished he'd been aware of it sooner.

000000

Harry walked in first, making sure Draco was at the register. He motioned to Pansy and Hermione and they joined him in line. When they reached the front, Harry waited until Draco looked up.

"You again, Potter?" Draco said in a bored tone. Then he glanced behind Harry and rolled his eyes. "Oh for fucks sake, Parkinson." He lowered his voice, "Slumming with Gryffindorks?"

Pansy smiled. "Draco!" She said a bit louder than necessary. "It's so good to see you."

"What can I get you two?" Draco asked, gritting his teeth. 

"Three…" commented Hermione, peeking out from behind Pansy. 

"Good God, Pans." Draco looked horrified. "Really?"

Pansy looked from Harry to Hermione. "Oh my God! You're right! It's Harry Potter and Hermione Granger! Oh whatever will I do? Oh I'm positively all a flutter!"

"If you all are finished acting like buffoons, I'll take your order. You're holding up the line," Draco growled. 

"Right," Harry said apologetically. "I'll have a hot venti vanilla latte with caramel and whipped cream. And we're not together."

"Good to know," Draco said under his breath. He looked up after keying in the order. "Name?"

"Seriously, Malfoy?" Harry replied with a sigh.

Draco looked up innocently. "Policy requires me to ask each patron." He smirked. "Name?"

"Harry," Harry said through gritted teeth. "Like that will end up on my cup."

Picking up his marker, Draco scribbled on the side of the cup before passing it along. "Next," he called out.

Pansy stepped up and placed her order, followed by Hermione. The three moved to the end of the counter to wait for their orders. 

"Oh he is definitely flirting with you, Potter," Pansy said. "You'd have to be blind not to see it." She paused for a beat, they eyed Harry. "Oh, sorry…forgot who I was talking to." 

She and Hermione fell into a fit of giggles. Harry gave his old friend a pointed look, and Hermione grimaced, covering her smile.

The barista at the end of the counter called out, "I have a hot venti vanilla latte with caramel and whipped cream for…" she blinked and looked at the cup again and shook her head. " _The git who lived to annoy_. A vanilla bean Frappuccino for _Gryffindork lover_ and an Earl Grey hot tea for _unimaginative know-it-all_. " She giggled and handed over the drinks to each of them in turn. "Apparently you all know our Draco. Maybe you can tell us about him. He's awfully closed-mouthed about himself."

Draco coughed. "Nothing better to do than gossip, Ellie? I'm sure I could get Mandy to find something to keep you busy."

Ellie smiled unashamedly and stuck out her tongue at Draco. "How else will I ever discover your secrets, Dray?"

If looks could kill, she'd have fallen over dead on the spot. "Do not, I repeat, do not ever call me that again," Draco growled. 

Ellie snickered and saluted. "Yes, sir." She turned back to Harry and spoke in a voice that was intentionally a bit louder than a whisper. "Feel free to stop back by about four." She winked. "I get out about then and would love to hear _all_ of Draco's secrets." She leaned on the counter, giving him a slow, sultry smile. "Are all of Draco's friends as handsome as you are?"

Harry stared at her, his mouth falling open. Was she flirting with him? The girl, apparently unbothered by his silence, tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and batted her long lashes at him.

Pansy grabbed Harry by one arm as Hermione grabbed the other. She turned back as they dragged Harry from the store, calling over her shoulder. "Sorry, love – he's not your type."

When they were outside of the doors, Pansy moved them quickly away so that no one inside could see them. "He might not be her type," Pansy said, "but he's definitely still Draco's. Did you see the look he gave that girl?" She looked between Harry and Hermione, who both shook their heads. "Oh, Merlin's saggy testes. If Draco had been allowed to bring his wand with him on this assignment, Ellie would be sporting golden retriever ears and a tail!"

Hermione snorted but Harry still looked unconvinced. "Why?"

Pansy stared at him for a long moment before reaching out and batting Harry firmly on the back of the head. 

"Hey." He rubbed the spot. "That hurt."

"Good, Maybe I can beat some sense into that thick head. The reason he keeps harassing you, and the reason he'd hex her, you enormous twerp, is that he's interested in you." She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Are all of you Gryffindorks this stupid?"

"The men?" Hermione nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"You didn't know he was mad at that girl either, so don't be so superior," Harry grumbled.

"Only because I was so busy watching her trying to charm her way into your pants," Hermione countered. 

"All right, enough, you two." Pansy linked her free arm through Harry's and nodded to Hermione. "This is going to require additional information and a good old fashioned dose of interference. Come along."

00000

Draco was working the counter again two days later. It had been a brisk morning and he was about out of pithy insults that the Muggles, Merlin love their dim little heads, thought were hilarious. He was also about ready to follow Ellie after her shift was over and shove the little slut into the Thames. He wasn't sure why she thought Potter was so fetching; she'd even asked him about his 'gorgeous brunet friend with the striking green eyes'. But he thought if she was interested in Potter she must be too stupid to live. Plus, she irritated him. If he hadn't known it would end with him back in Azkaban, he'd have already choked her with her own hair. It was also after eleven and the four eyed wonder hadn't shown up at his counter. Draco would commit suicide with the milk steamer before admitting it, but he wondered where Potter was. Not that he missed the prat or anything.

The line was all but gone and Draco had been so busy looking for a dark-haired man that he'd missed the dark-haired woman until she standing right in front of him, head cocked to one side and a snarky smile on her face. He startled slightly as he recognized her. 

"I believe I'm insulted that I could stand here for so long without you realizing it was me," Pansy said.

"I was busy," he snapped. She looked around the nearly empty counter, then turned back to him. 

"I can see."

He rolled his eyes. "What can I get you, Parkinson?" He turned to the register, his fingers poised above the keys.

Pansy's smile softened. "Five minutes of your time for an old friend?"

He stared into her dark eyes, then glanced behind him. "I'm not due for a break until noon."

Mandy appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on a towel. "You can take your break now, Draco." She came to him, pushing him gently aside. "Go talk to your friend; I've got this."

He hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to his 'friend', but he finally sighed and came out from behind the counter. He looked down into Pansy's upturned face.

"So? Talk."

She gave him an ironic grin. "Can we sit?"

He grimaced but when he realized the people working behind the counter, including that idiot Ellie, were watching them raptly and leaning in to listen, he led the way to the furthest table from the counter near the windows. He hadn't told them anything about himself intentionally. He fully intended to disappear the moment his probation was over, never to be seen or heard from again. But now there was Potter coming in, making a nuisance of himself, and hauling Pansy and Granger in with him. They might as well open a Starbucks on Diagon Alley at this point.

Draco settled into one of the spindly little wrought iron chairs, crossing his arms, staring at Pansy expectantly. She laughed.

"Gods, you've turned into a fussy old bitch, haven't you?" Pansy leaned back in her chair, studying him.

His mouth dropped open. "I am neither fussy, nor old, you cow."

Pansy's chuckles settled into a fond grin. "I notice you didn't protest being a bitch." Her grin widened. "I've missed you, Draco."

"Well, I haven't missed you." Draco had, but he wasn't about to admit it.

She snorted. "Yes, you have. Who else understands you half so well? Certainly no one in this crowd." She gestured towards the counter with her head and he glanced over his shoulder, catching the avid curious stares of his Muggle co-workers.

Draco sighed. "Merlin's foreskin, no."

"Except possibly Mandy." Pansy looked over that the girl thoughtfully. "She seems to like you."

Draco sighed softly. "I like her too, actually. Shame she's a Muggle."

"Oh, they aren't all bad." Pansy grinned. "Believe it or not, Granger is actually fairly decent. And her notes are getting me through our initial training."

Draco made a face. "I'll have to take your word for it." He studied her, then felt a slight smile pull at his lips. "God, Pans. I'm working in a Starbucks and you're friends with Granger. What in the name of Mordred's tits has happened to us?"

"We've grown up?" Pansy offered fondly.

Draco twisted his lips. "Is that's what it's called? I was leaning toward collective insanity. Not that I had a choice."

"It could be worse, you know" Pansy said, and Draco gave her a look that told her how much he doubted it. "I understand winters in the middle of the North Sea on a large rock are fairly unpleasant. Not to mention there's no espresso in Azkaban."

He wrinkled his nose. "You're completely mental."

Pansy leaned forward on her elbows. "I've been called worse. So, now that we've decided how terribly mature we've become--," Draco huffed softly and Pansy smiled, "--would you care to tell me what this little back and forth you have going on with the boy wonder is all about?"

He felt his face heat. "I just -- like to irritate him."

"And that's all it is? You yanking the proverbial chain?"

Draco wouldn't meet her searching gaze. "What else would it be?" He picked imaginary lint off of his sleeve. 

"Oh, I don't know," Pansy drawled. "I thought perhaps you noticed how very nicely he's turned out. And you did have a bit of a thing for him fourth year." He started to protest, and she angled her head to the side. "Do remember who you're talking to, darling. I was there. You broke my heart quite thoroughly when you told me you'd rather take him to the Yule ball than me." 

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his hands over his face. "God, I was a beastly little shit." He let his arms drop to the table. "Why didn't you hex me?"

"I considered it, then and several times since…truth be told. Now, about Harry?" 

With a sigh, Draco sat back in his chair. "What about him?" She didn't answer, just gave him a faintly irritated, searching look. He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Yes, I like winding him up, but it's mostly because his eyes shine when he's annoyed and I like the color. And he has turned out… rather better than merely all right. All right? But I seriously doubt he'd ever see me as anything more than an obnoxious, pointy git, so…"

She smiled at him slowly. "Darling. You and I need to have a more in depth exchange of information."

Draco studied her amused face and felt his chest fill with an emotion he scarcely recognized. After all, it had been a long time since he'd felt anticipation, or hope.

00000

Harry mulled the information Pansy had given him over and over in his mind for hours. He had come to really like Pansy, but could he trust her to be telling him the truth? He know she and Draco had been friends since the cradle, but was it possible that Malfoy actually _fancied_ him – at least enough to consider going out on a date with him?

In fact, it was about the only thing Harry thought of all day Saturday. But he was still uncertain as he entered the coffee shop early Sunday afternoon. The crowd was different from the early morning off to work hordes. People lingered around the tables, chatting. There was even a couple with a small dog near the doors. His heart pounded in his chest as his eyes went to the front of the store. What if Draco didn't work on Sunday? Harry had only ever been in during the week. When he saw the tall, lithe figure in his usual place at the register, he sighed in relief. He wasn't certain, but Harry would have sworn that Draco looked up as he entered and Draco's cheeks gained a bit of a rosy tint. 

There were several families in front of Harry and he couldn't help but smile at Draco's impatience with them. They seemed more befuddled than entertained, the way the work week folks reacted to Draco’s dry sarcasm. When it was finally Harry's turn to order, he stood there suddenly unable to say a word. 

"Did you plan on ordering sometime today, Potter?" Draco asked with a sigh when his silence stretched out. "Or was your intention to stand here holding up everyone else. In which case, you've succeeded, so move along."

Harry blinked. "Sorry. I'll have a hot grande caffè latte."

Draco’s brow arched sardonically. "No sugar coma inducing drinks today?"

"I find I'm not a huge fan of those overly sweet drinks." Harry didn't look away from Draco. 

Draco smiled. "And what are you a fan of?" His voice was low. 

Harry arched an eye brow. "Lots of things," he answered, sounding breathless. "But if we're talking about coffee, I'm more of a nice hot cup of coffee with milk."

"Then I think you're good with a caffè latte. Basically a coffee but with espresso and steamed milk in it. So a bit more of a caffeine punch, but not as strong as a straight espresso." Draco studied Harry wryly. "You look like you could use a bit of a pick-me-up. Rough night beating off your adoring fans?"

Harry paused for a moment before he replied. "Actually, I spent the evening at home by myself." He felt a moment of gratification. "I'll do the latte thing. By the way, the name's Harry." 

Draco grinned mischievously as he wrote in marker on the side of a cup. He keyed the order in and waited for Harry to pay. When their fingers brushed as he handed over his money, a shiver went all of the way up to his shoulder.

Harry moved to the end of the counter wondering just what that grin was all about. Soon Ellie had his cup in hand and was grinning. "I have a caffè latte for _green eyed git_.

Harry couldn't help it; he laughed and took the cup. Rather than leaving the store as per usual, however, he moved to a chair in the corner that allowed him a view of the register. He sat nursing his coffee, quite aware that Draco was watching him with a bemused look on his face. When the store had emptied out a bit, Draco seemed to arrive at a conclusion and walked over to Harry, his hands propped on his narrow hips. "Was there something else you required, Potter?"

It was simply too good an opportunity to miss. Pansy had told him Draco fancied him; if it was true, he just might live through the next thirty seconds. Harry set his cup on the small table by his chair before standing. "Actually there's something I very much require." He grabbed the front of Draco's apron, leaned forward and pressed his mouth over a startled Draco's, full lips.

At first, Draco didn't move and Harry's first thought was that if Draco didn't kill him, he was going to throttle Parkinson. Then Draco shifted closer and Harry felt Draco's hand lift to the back of Harry's head. Harry’s heart soared and their mouths opened and the kiss deepened. Draco’s tongue tentatively touched Harry’s lower lip, and he groaned softly, shifting his hands to curl around Draco’s biceps.

Harry stepped closer, his body pressing against Draco's when the sound of applause and a wolf-whistle cut through his sensual haze. He froze and opened one eye. "Oh, God," he said softly. The entire Starbuck's staff was standing by the register applauding enthusiastically. Draco made a soft, amused sound, pressing his forehead to Harry's shoulder. "Exhibitionist much, Potter?" 

"Not ordinarily," Harry answered, lifting his hand to the back of Draco’s neck. "It must be your influence."

"Oh, clearly," Draco replied. "Prat."

"Git," Harry retorted, grinning.

Someone behind the counter called out, "Two iced coffees for the lovebirds." 

Harry swore it was Ellie who added, "And perhaps a room!"

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/129216.html).


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